By all rights, the ice elf should have been giddy with excitement at the recent cold turn in the weather. Fat snowflakes hovered weightlessly in the air, until they finally touched earth, where they became another thread in the fastly knitting quilt of white that covered the ground. The air was crisp and cold, but there was little in the way of breeze or wind, so it wasn't quite chilly enough to discourage all outdoor activity by the city's residents. Still, as Locke's stylish black Chelsea boots (his sole concession to the winter weather) tromped on the sidewalks and cobblestones, there were fewer people present then would've been in the fall. The quiet of the streets fit his mood; not quite melancholy, it was contemplative, balancing the joy of the changing season with the memories of the things he had seen. He arrived at Katarina's apartment complex and silently made his way through the front door and to the stairs up to the second floor, then to her apartment. He knocked his usual rhythmic knock, but kept the accompanying song to himself.

A few moments after the knocking, there was a loud and pitiful meowing sound, accompanied by Katarina's complaints. Not all of it could be heard through the door, except for broken phrases, " embarrassin'... kin't open th' door..." The meowing continued until she simply turned the handle on her unlocked door and peeked her face through the small crack. "Hey, evenin' there Locke." She opened the door wider for him to step inside. Patches aimed to weave and rub against his legs. Wearing a long sleeved, tea-length olive green dress with pockets. The short hall lead to another on the right that lead to the kitchen, and straight out lead to her living room.

Before stepping inside, Locke reached into the back pocket of his black trousers to remove his gloves and put them on. He then knelt to pet the cat, murmuring a few affectionate words as he did so. A few snowflakes clung stubbornly to the front of his French Blue dress shirt, and dappled his yellow with white and black diagonally striped tie. "Good evening, Katarina. I trust this evening finds you faring well?" He took a quick, smooth step into the apartment as he spoke.

"Ridiculous cat" A quick mumble as she watched Patches shamelessly purr at the attention. "Yeah, 'm doin' good. Jist got home nah too long 'go." She shut the door behind him, before leading them towards her living room, "We're goin' long hours now since th' ballet 's startin' Friday. Kin I git ya anythin'?" She motions to her kitchen that was separated by a high counter.

"Glass of water?" He took a cursory glance at the living room, then a longer one at the kitchen as it was pointed out. "Don't work too hard now, mate. All work and no play makes Jane a dull girl. Or something to that effect." He shrugged his shoulders, not terribly concerned if he got the adage correct or not.

She laughed warmly, heading for the small dining area in the corner that connected the living room and kitchen together. The color combination was off white and forest green between the room, complete with a large, comfy looking sofa and a chair to match. "Yeah, I know. I's only fer anotha month er so, an' then th' troupe's takin' a break fer a month er so. Make yerself a' home." She filled a glass full of ice and water before returning to offer it to him.

He sat down on the chair, taking the offered glass with a bright smile. "Thank you most kindly. Wish I could take a month off. Unfortunately, Gerard is quite intent on working each and every one of us blokes in the shop down to nubs. Yours truly included." He traced a gloved finger across the top of the glass, but didn't drink from it yet.

"Yeah? Any reason er is he jist be particularly chipper?" With a smile and roll of her eyes, she sat in the corner of the sofa closest to the chair. Patches jumped up on couch with her, and tried to crawl her lap. "Patches, c'mon now." she gently kept the cat off of her clothes.

"He's trying to get a head start on his showcase for the spring fashion show next year. I guess he wasn't terribly pleased with how his display went this year, and he doesn't want to leave anything to chance." He chuckled, lips twisting into a smile, as the cat sought further affection from Katarina.

There was a glimmer of recognition in his eyes, at Elessaria's name. "Eless had told me, a couple of days earlier, that I needed to be careful, because things had become more chaotic than usual in the Inn." Now concern flashed in cobalt irises, when Katarina described her own experiences. "I am terribly sorry you had to deal with that, and very glad that you were not harmed. I know some magic, but I am not terribly talented in it by any means. All I could tell you is whatever magics were being worked in the Inn that evening, they were powerful. And evil. I think it was the malice in them that made me sick." And then, a slight look of embarrassment crossed his face. "I felt a little guilty, because I didn't charge in to help, but I couldn't bloody figure out who was the hero and who was the villain, savvy? It was just these acquaintances and people I had seen around previously, carving each other up like they were lifelong foes, even though I'm reasonably certain they weren't." Another shake of his head punctuated his comments.

Her face turned melancholy at his words. She could easily imagine his experience, the vivid and horrifying thoughts brought a swift shiver. "Bu' mahbe tha's whay i's bes' nah ta git caught up 'n it sometimes, yanno? Ya didn' know wha' was goin' 'n. Fer all ya know any help jist coulda made thin's worse." She absently rubbed her shoulder before having both hands fall into her lap, "I'm glad tha' ya weren' dragged inta it too. I went back a few days lata ta check 'n Eless, bu' I dun really feel inclined ta be goin' as often, yanno?

His head moved more vigorously this time, agreeing with her. "Sometimes I wonder why I bloody bother. I mean, I have had some fantastic times in there, but some of the worst things to ever happen to me, physically and mentally, have happened there. The place-it is chockful of memories of things I would rather not remember, savvy?" He brushed a hand against the side of his face momentarily, before letting it fall back down. "I really cannot see how anyone can stand to live there."

Her head also bobbed in agreement, before she pursued her lips in thought, "I stayed there fer a time when I firs' go' here 'cause someone directed me there. Bu' I dun remember times like these, bu' I didn' really stay around too much eitha. I was too busy findin' a job an' a studio." With a deep sigh, she ran her finger through her hair, "Mahbe i's time ta fin' a differen' gatherin' place until all tha' mess is ova."

"The awful things that happened are a big part of the reason why I stopped living there and why I've stopped working there on a regular basis." He looked slyly at her, lips curling into a grin. "I could be convinced to make the Jazz Club the center of operations. Could be." He added emphasis as he let his features express some doubt at the idea.

"I didn' know tha' ya've tended there." The piece of information was stored idea for the time being, before his expressions brought light laughter, "Th' Jazz Club is fun an' all, bu' i's nah really a place ta relax an' hav' a conversation, yanno? 'Sides, tha's were a lot o' th' theatre people go, I see 'em enough already." She tapped her lip in thought, "Nah, there's gotta be a betta place."

"Only a for a few months. I used to tend house parties when I was at Uni, so it wasn't too hard to get back into it here." He swirled the ice around in his cup with a shake of his wrist. "Are you looking for a place that serves alcoholic libations?"

"So long as it ain' th' inn, I dun really hav' a preference. Bu' mahbe wit' the show startin' up anywhere will be a li'l less crazy by th' time 'm finished." She carefully stretched her legs out so to not disturb the cat.

"Well, there's Teas'n'Tomes, if you don't mind not having alcohol at the ready. There's also the Great Helm, but service there tends to vary from lax to non-existent. And I am certain there are a million other pubs present in this fine city of ours. Just not the Inn. Or the Silver Mark." He ran a hand through the white hair on the back of his head.

"I've heard o' th' Silver Mark, bu' neva been there. Wha's wrong wit' tha' place?" She gave him a curious look.

"That's where 'Lanta works." Terse, tight-lipped, and to the point.

"Ah." She very much so wanted to ask questions on that front, but instead said nothing. There was already enough distress over the inn that she did not want to add more for the evening. "Well, 'm sure tha' we'll eitha fin' anotha place. Er I jist migh' stay a' home fer a good while." Her teasing smile disproved the likeliness of her second option.

He let doubt seep into his features again. "You do not strike me as the type who would be a homebody. It sounds like to me-" He rested his chin on his fingers, deep in thought. "we have some exploring to do."

The pillow flew straight and true, striking him in the cheek. He sat there in silence, pretending to be stunned for a moment, before he stood up and headed for the kitchen. He put his glass on the counter, then walked back into the living room. He knelt down to where the pillow had fallen, before he smiled wickedly at her. "You would be well advised to grab a pillow of your own, mate."

When he stood up, a fleeting thought of upsetting him had her straightening to get a glance at what he was doing. When he walked back, she slowly realized her epic mistake of throwing away her weapon. A quick glance down the sofa showed that the nearest pillow to her was on the other side of the couch with a sleeping feline in the way. Carefully urging the cat down, she hoped Patches would distract Locke as she made a wild stretch and grab for the other pillow.

The cat padded amiably in Locke's direction, while the ice elf tried to shoo him out of the living with wild gestures and muttered elvish. He had the pillow in one hand, but he was still crouched, and not in a position to defend himself from attack.

Surprised to have grabbed the pillow without being attacked, she would be sure to let Patches sleep one of her pillows for the diversion. Using momentum, she brought up her arm and in a swift motion stood with a step in his direction. "Gotcha!" She was laughing so hard that while she aimed for his side, it was possible her her strike to land anywhere.

He tried to swing his own pillow up in time for the deflection, but he was too slow, and unable to stop himself from being struck in the shoulder. He playfully swung back at her, aiming his counter-attack for her midsection, giggling all the while.

"Gah!" She breathed through her laughter and giggles as his aim hit true. She scurried away from him and hopefully more attacks before getting on the other side of the chair. Having that space between them, she took advantage of her long arms and tried for another attack over the chair.

Bopped lightly on the side of the head, and at a distinct disadvantage with the chair in his way (and her longer reach), he decided to employ another tactic. He pretended to go down like a ton of bricks. One moment, he was still partially upright. The next, he slumped to the floor, seemingly unconscious. He maintained his grip on the pillow, though, in an outstretched arm.

Her giggles quickly deceased as he unexpectedly fell over. She held a large amount of skepticism of his fall, but she could not deny the natural stress and worry. Sacrificing her pillow in order to keep her position, she aimed a gentle toss to his face to see if his expression changed.

He had cracked an eye open, trying to see if she had bought his act, but before he could really see anything, there was a pillow coming his way. The eye quickly snapped shut, and he took the pillow straight to the face, resisting the urge to react when it hit him.

Pursuing her lips, she debated going over to him or waiting it out. Surely it was a trap, but she did get his head. Drumming her fingers on her chair for a few moments, she sighed and moved from the chair to stand beside him. Kneeling carefully, she gingerly gripped his arm and gave it a shake, "Locke?"

He let his eyes pop open, once she was kneeling close by him, wide with mirth and mischief. "Gotcha!" He took a light swing at her with the outstretched arm, though it was hard to aim the pillow without being upright, and quite possibly easy to dodge as well.

She had enough time to block her face with her arm, before looking down at him with wide eyes, "You dun play fair!" Laughing, she released his arm and gave his cold shoulder a shake, "Dun scare me like tha'!" If he could exaggerate, then so would she.

"If I played fair, you would have beaten me. Easily. I know when I am clearly outmatched, mate." He brought the pillow back down to the ground, but made no move to scramble back to his feet yet.

Laughing lightly, she removed her hands and leaned back so that she was not looming over him, "An' ya 'member tha'. If yer gonna play games like tha', then I kin too." Empty threat tossed aside, a small bout of giggles escaped her as she leaned against the couch.

He sat up, positioning his legs so that his feet were folded under his knees. "Are you going to play dead on me when I least expect it?"

"I wasn' thinkin' it, bu' now tha' ya mention it, I'll keep tha' 'n mind fer a differen' time." A coy smile and clever wiggle of her brows.